


This Is How It Goes

by haligh24



Series: Salvation [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, But it's classy, Canon Compliant, F/F, No Strings Attached, Somewhat graphic description of violence, They're doing it, Until otherwise proven, Yasha's arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haligh24/pseuds/haligh24
Summary: The first time it happens feels inevitable, like a couple of magnets pushed just close enough and then left to their own devices.Beau’s got eyes, after all, and she hasn’t slept with anyone since joining up with this merry band of misfits several months ago. It was actually a while before that, if she’s being honest - a pretty girl drinking alone whose name Beau can’t even remember now. Not that she’s trying to, at the moment. With the way Yasha is staring at her, Beau can barely remember her own name.





	This Is How It Goes

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep, and it turned into almost 7k unbeta'd words of whatever this ::gestures wildly:: is.
> 
> Editing to include credit that the title is 100% stolen from an Aimee Mann song of the same name. I don't think listening to it will necessarily *add* anything to this fic, but it's a really good song so, you know. You should listen to it anyway.

 

The first time it happens feels inevitable, like a couple of magnets pushed just close enough and then left to their own devices. 

 

Beau’s got eyes, after all, and she hasn’t slept with anyone since joining up with this merry band of misfits several months ago. It was actually a while before that, if she’s being honest - a pretty girl drinking alone whose name Beau can’t even remember now. Not that she’s trying to, at the moment. With the way Yasha is staring at her, Beau can barely remember her own name. 

 

“Beau.”

 

Oh right, that’s it. 

 

She drags her gaze away from Yasha’s form and toward the rest of the group. It’s a difficult task. The others are looking at her expectantly, crowded around a table that's not quite big enough to fit them all comfortably.

 

“Hmm? What’d you say?” She scratches idly at the short, spiky hairs on the back of her head, hoping she looks casual. 

 

“I asked if you’re alright,” Fjord says, his green forehead bunched up in concern, “You took something of a wallop back there.”

 

And, wow, is that an understatement. Beau nearly got her entire ass handed to her, is what actually happened, but Fjord’s far too kind and polite to put it that way. 

 

“Yeah,” she replies, nodding her head, “Yeah, totally. I’m good.”

 

She picks up her mug of ale and takes a long, gulping drink, hoping it will put an end to this thread of the conversation. Or at least cool her down. 

 

“Well, even so,” Fjord continues, “Maybe you should let Jester take a look at you again before bed.”

 

“Yeah Beau,” Jester says around a mouthful of pastry, “Your brain is probably scrambled because of how you got hit so many times. Here, I’ll fix it.”

 

Jester jumps up and scampers around the table, bringing her baked good with her. She looks Beau over for just a moment before setting down what Beau can now see is a muffin. She’s not sure if the spots are blueberry or mold, and she makes a mental note to buy Jester something fresh tomorrow. 

 

Jester brushes some crumbs off her hands before laying them gently on Beau’s temples. She mumbles a few words under her breath and Beau can feel her deepest wounds close up, the muscles and sinew warm and tingly. 

 

“There you go,” Jester grins, “Good as new.”

 

Beau’s about to thank her when Jester rambles on. 

 

“Hey, now that you’re probably not concussed anymore, we should have a sleepover! I have new ribbons; I can make your hair look really pretty.”

 

Beau frowns. 

 

“Pretty?”

 

“Oh,” Jester continues, picking up her snack, “Not that you’re not  _ already _ pretty. But maybe some ribbons would be good, probably.”

 

Jester rips off a hunk of muffin and more crumbs spill down the front of her. Beau shakes her head. 

 

“No, I -"

 

“You don’t want to be pretty?” Jester interrupts. 

 

“No, yeah, I uh," she says before pausing to think.

 

Beau’s a little confused. Maybe she is actually concussed. But for once, Jester is quietly waiting for an answer, so Beau takes a deep breath and tries again. 

 

“How about a rain check? On the sleepover? I’m exhausted.”

 

Beau’s actually about as far from exhausted as she could possibly be, adrenaline still pouring through her veins from the fight. She keeps picturing the eyes of that  _ thing _ , so cold and intent on killing her. Keeps playing back how she had everything under control - patient defense, wait for an opening, strike back with precision - when all of a sudden she lost focus. Keeps wondering what she would’ve done if Yasha hadn’t stepped in front of her from out of fucking nowhere. 

 

Yasha, who is speaking the first words she's uttered in almost an hour. After plunging her greatsword through the creature's head, Yasha had shouted for Jester to come heal Beau. She'd been silent ever since. 

 

“So am I,” Yasha says now, “Do you want to go up to bed?”

 

Boy does she. Beau’s throat goes a little dry, and she can't seem to fix it no matter how hard she swallows. 

 

“Oh, I mean, sure. Yeah. Like if you’re tired, and I’m tired? Makes sense that we should share a room. To sleep. So other people can stay up, if they want.”

 

Beau’s pretty good at playing it cool, if she does say so herself. She finishes off her ale. 

 

“Right,” Yasha agrees, standing up. 

 

“Boo,” Jester pouts, “You guys are no fun.”

 

“I’ll have a sleepover with you, Jester,” Nott pipes up from where she sits at Caleb’s side. Her eyes barely peek over the table. 

 

“You will?” Jester lights up again. 

 

“Sure,” Nott continues, “You can put as many ribbons on me as you like.”

 

Jester darts over toward her, rambling excitedly. 

 

“Yasha, you need a heal too?” Molly asks as she brushes past him. 

 

“I’m fine,” she says, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Just want to get to bed.”

 

Yasha looks back at Beau when she says it and yeah. Ok. Beau wants to get to bed too. She hops up and trails after Yasha, avoiding Fjord's eye contact as she wishes the group a good night.

 

They don't speak, barely even glance at one another, as they make their way through the half-empty tavern. The Mighty Nien have something kind of like a reputation now - Yasha especially, what with her imposing stature and striking looks. A few bar patrons raise a glass as they walk by, and Yasha returns each of these gestures with a stoic nod. Beau can't help but find it incredibly attractive. Then again, Beau finds most of what Yasha does to be incredibly attractive. 

 

Yasha climbs the rickety old staircase in the corner of the tavern, most of the steps protesting loudly under her weight, and Beau follows. She thinks maybe she should say something, now that they're alone, but she's not sure what. She focuses on the swish and ripple of the furs and fabrics hanging from Yasha's strong frame instead. It's hypnotic. 

 

Before she knows it, Beau is standing outside a nondescript looking door while Yasha makes quick work of the lock. She gets the door open and gestures Beau inside.

 

"So, uh, glad I wasn't the only one ready to get out of there," Beau says as she walks across the threshold, "Sometimes those guys don't know when to shut up."

 

Beau turns around and suddenly Yasha is closing the distance between them. She barely has a chance to register the movement before Yasha is there, bending down slightly to take Beau's face between her hands and kiss her soundly. Beau's body reacts before her mind can catch up, and she reaches around Yasha's waist to tug her closer as she returns the kiss.

 

It's a good kiss - a  _ really _ good kiss. Aggressive, the way Beau likes, but not too sloppy. Beau is just starting to settle into the rhythm of it, digging her fingertips into the tense muscle of Yasha's back as she grinds up against her, when Yasha surprises her again. Beau actually has to try and suppress a yelp when she feels her body being lifted off the ground, which she  _ does _ \- thank The Knowing Mistress. Beauregard does not yelp, not if she can help it.

 

She wraps her legs around Yasha's torso and her hands around Yasha's arms and grins deeply as she takes stock of her new position. Yasha was right when they first met; these arms really are worth every part of five gold. More, even, because Beau feels weightless in Yasha's embrace.

 

"You got a thing for carrying me around?" Beau asks as she tries to catch her breath.

 

"You're too short," Yasha says, her voice low, "I got sick of bending down."

 

"I'm not that short," Beau argues, because she's not. Not really.

 

"Everyone seems short to me."

 

And then Yasha is kissing her again so fine, whatever, Beau will be short for tonight. They don't last upright much longer anyway, as it turns out. Yasha deposits Beau on the bed gently before standing back up and starting to tear off her clothes. 

 

Beau is about to make a snarky comment, something like, "Oh  _ now _ you'll take off your cloak for me," when she gets an eyeful of Yasha's bare skin. It's enough to shut her up. Beau watches, transfixed, until Yasha is almost entirely naked.

 

"Well?" Yasha asks as she slides off the last of her undergarments, "Are you waiting for an invitation?"

 

"Oh, right," Beau says, shaking her head in an attempt to clear the fog that's settled around her brain.

 

She begins to tug off her robe, but then Yasha is on top of her, apparently more than eager to help. Beau suspects it takes longer this way, but she's not complaining.

 

"Let me know if I hurt you," Yasha says once they're both fully undressed.

 

"I don't think that's possible," Beau smirks into the spot she's been kissing at Yasha's collarbone.

 

Yasha pulls away.

 

"I'm serious."

 

Beau looks at her. Even in the darkened room, she can see that Yasha's face is stern and earnest - a stark contrast from the normally impassive expression she often wears.

 

"Yeah, okay," Beau agrees, "I promise."

 

Yasha nods and pushes Beau onto her back before straddling her prone form. 

 

"Good," Yasha whispers as she hovers over Beau's ear, "Because I'm very strong."

 

And then she's trailing her way down Beau's body, making Beau feel like her insides might just burst out from beneath her skin.

 

And Beau thought before that she had appreciated Yasha's arms enough, but after the first orgasm she's starting to think five gold was a gross understatement. Because Yasha's arms are connected to Yasha's hands and Yasha's fingers, and those are just. Wow. 

 

Beau spends the next several hours unable to come up with the words she would need to describe just how incredible they are. The only words she seems to know are, " _ yes _ ," and, " _ there _ ," and, " _ don't stop _ ," and a string of expletives that would make Fjord blush. Yasha's not blushing, though. In fact, she seems to like it very much when Beau is particularly vocal and particularly filthy. And Yasha never hurts her - not any more than Beau can take, at least.

 

Beau's almost asleep, exhausted for real now, when she hears Yasha speak.

  
"Be careful about the sound next time, yeah?"

 

Beau turns to face Yasha, frowns at the blunt statement.

 

"Uh, was I too loud?" Beau asks, "'Cause, like, little late to tell me now."

 

"Oh, no," Yasha shakes her head against the pillow, "I meant before, sorry. During the fight, you lost your advantage right after Nott screamed. The sound broke your focus."

 

"Oh."

 

"So just, try to tune it all out," Yasha adds after an awkward couple of seconds.

 

Beau huffs and inches away from Yasha as much as she can on the small bed. Beau  _ knows _ that, obviously. She's not an idiot. It's just kind of hard to tune out a shrill goblin scream in the heat of an intense battle, especially when the aforementioned goblin has actually turned out to be a pretty good, if bizzare, friend.

 

"Anyone ever told you that you need to, like, work on your pillow talk?" Beau grumbles.

 

They are both quiet for a few long moments. Beau can just barely make out Yasha's features by the moonlight filtering through the window; her pale skin giving off an almost ethereal glow.

 

"I apologize," Yasha says finally, "I meant no offense - you are an excellent fighter. I just, next time, if I'm not there -"

 

Yasha falters and it throws Beau for a moment. Yasha usually doesn't falter. Beau watches a shadow dance across Yasha's neck as she swallows.

 

"If that happens again, I just wanted to tell you to please try your best to tune them out," Yasha sighs, "But now I feel silly; you obviously don't need me telling you that."

 

Beau softens.

 

"You're right, I don't. But I get it," Beau says, "Thanks for saving my ass, by the way."

 

Yasha hums noncommittally before adding, "Well, I do rather like your ass."

 

Beau barks out a laugh at that and burrows down further beneath the covers.

 

"Yeah you do," she says, feeling her eyes slip closed now that she's relaxed once more.

 

"Rest well, Beauregard," Yasha whispers.

 

Beau just grunts in response, sleep already overtaking her.

  
  
  


Yasha is gone when Beau wakes up, which isn't all that surprising but still kind of hurts. 

 

Beau dresses, doing her best to stretch sore muscles as she gingerly pulls on her clothes, and wanders downstairs to the tavern. The rest of The Mighty Nein (the mighty five, Beau guesses, without herself and Yasha at the table) are already up and long finished with breakfast. 

 

"Good morning, Beau." 

 

Jester is the first to speak to her, the first to even acknowledge her, while the rest of those cowards just hide their faces in their mugs. Beau kind of respects her for it.

 

"Morning," Beau replies as she carefully takes a seat at the table.

 

"How was the sex last night? It sounded really good, so," Jester says, smiling.

 

And there goes that respect. Beau scowls and signals the waitress over.

 

"You know if you wanted to bang Yasha, you just had to say so," Jester continues, "We can have a sleepover anytime, but Yasha is only here sometimes."

 

Beau ignores her, orders an ale with a side of bacon and eggs instead.

 

"Do you want any tips? I know a lot about sex," Jester takes a moment to consider her words, "Well, mostly I know about dicks, but I bet I have some tips that will probably still apply."

 

Fjord clears his throat loudly and says, "So, no big plans for today. Anyone have errands that they need to run?"

 

It's enough to distract Jester and engage the rest of the group in a conversation. Beau whispers her thanks to Fjord. He nods and leans in closer.

 

"Not a problem," he says, "But do you really think it's a good idea to be engaging in that type of relationship with someone like her?"

 

"To be honest man, I didn't really think. Like, at all," Beau replies, shrugging, "And what do you mean, ' _ someone like her? _ '"

 

"I'm only saying, we've been together a while now, but she never sticks around. We still don't know all that much about her, when it comes down to it."

 

"I trust her to have my back in a fight, same as you," Beau says, "And that's good enough for me."

 

Fjord rubs at the side of jaw as he takes in Beau's words. Eventually, he nods.

 

"Fair enough," he says, sitting back in his chair a little, "Just be careful, that's all I'm saying."

 

"I'm always careful," Beau says flatly just as her breakfast arrives.

 

She can see Fjord roll his eyes out of the corner of her vision, but he lets Beau dig into her food and drink without further interruption. 

 

*****

 

The next time it happens it almost doesn’t. Beau’s not going to be that person. The one who waits around, always available, while Yasha runs around doing who knows what. Doing who knows, uh, who. So when Yasha shows up a couple of weeks later, literally just appears one morning at their campfire, Beau is inclined to give her the cold shoulder.

 

The others welcome her with rations, eager to tell tales of their latest victories. Yasha accepts the food and the stories, seeking out Beau with her eyes every chance she gets. Beau ignores the looks and tries not to scoff as somehow the handful of undead they'd dispatched the other day turns into a swarming horde with Jester and Nott describing the scene. 

 

She can't figure out why they're so keen on impressing Yasha, especially when the woman has not once told them about her own exploits. Beau finally decides she's had about enough when even  _ Molly _ gets in on the nonsense, letting Jester pretend to cut off his head as he crumples to the ground with a dramatic flourish.

 

"I'm gonna go, uh, meditate," Beau announces and walks away before anyone can respond.

 

She stomps through the woods, kicking at whatever stick or leaf is in her path, until she comes upon enough of a clearing to sit comfortably on the ground. Beau's not great at meditating, she's kind of shit at it actually, but she figures now is as good a time as any to practice.

 

She spends about five minutes trying to clear her mind before she gives up and flops back onto the dirt. There is no getting Yasha out of her head. She looks good. Great, even. Healthy and relatively clean, and it's not like Beau  _ wants  _ her to be hurt or in pain. Of course not. It's just, then maybe she could tamp down this gnawing feeling in her ribcage like Yasha is off having fun without her - without  _ them, _ she means. They're a team, that's all, or they're supposed to be.

 

"Can I sit here?"

 

Yasha's voice is soft, but deafening in the silence of the forest. Beau squeezes her eyes shut tighter.

 

"I don't know, can you?" Beau asks, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

 

Beau hears the shifting of leaves and then it's quiet again. For someone who's supposed to be at one with their inner mind, or whatever, Beau is really awful with silences.

 

"Did you want something, or?" Beau asks, letting the question trail off as she finally opens her eyes.

 

She gazes up at the canopy, feels herself somewhat soothed by the irregular fluttering of leaves on the top branches. Yasha sighs.

 

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," she says.

 

Beau sits up and finally lets herself look at Yasha. She looks like a picture of serenity, sitting there on the ground a few feet away.

 

"I'm great," Beau says with mock cheer, "And you seem great, too. So, that's great."

 

"Beau," Yasha begins wearily.

 

"What? Did you want me to fawn over your arrival too?" Beau says, "Sorry about that, I've got other things on my mind."

 

"Fawn?" Yasha asks, quirking up an eyebrow, "No. Not - not, fawn. But a simple 'hello' would've sufficed."

 

"Hello," Beau mimics back at her and stands up, "But excuse me, I want to run through some exercises before we get back on the trail today."

 

Beau stalks off. She's even able to resist the urge to look back for a good fifty feet. When she does finally glance over her shoulder, Yasha's still there, sitting in the clearing with her gaze trained into her lap.

  
  
  


Yasha ends up staying longer than she ever has before, traveling with the group as they make their way through the forest. They're attempting to track down some book Caleb won't shut up about, but Beau hasn't been paying close attention. It's important to him, though, she can gather that much.

 

It's a surprisingly peaceful stretch of time, they see nothing but the occasional bugbear, and Beau's anger and resentment stops burning so hot by the second day. Yasha's nothing but kind and helpful, and she keeps a respectful distance from Beau. 

 

Which Beau is grateful for, at first, but by early on the sixth evening she's starting to regret the way she behaved. Especially when she notices Yasha, stripped down to a sleeveless top, chopping firewood a little way off from the campsite. Because the thing is, Beau hasn't forgotten about those arms - or the hands or fingers attached to them. She's even had more than a couple dreams about them.

 

Beau approaches Yasha slowly. She's learned over the years it's best not to startle someone with a sharp blade.

 

"Hey," she says tentatively when Yasha looks up from her task.

 

"Hi," Yasha replies, a little breathless. 

 

Yasha sets the axe, head down, on the stump she's been using, and leans one arm on the handle that sticks up. She uses the other arm to wipe some sweat from her forehead as Beau comes closer.

 

"So, uh, chopping wood, huh?" Beau asks.

 

"That's right," Yasha replies, a slight smile just barely playing across her lips. 

 

Beau hasn't forgotten about those lips, either. She takes another couple of steps forward.

 

"Cool, cool, cool," Beau nods her head, "That's good. Need wood for a fire."

 

"Uh huh," Yasha agrees, her smile growing.

 

Beau keeps nodding her head, says, "Well, you're doing a great job."

 

"Thank you, Beau," Yasha says, "Is that all you came here to tell me?"

 

And then Yasha fucking cheats. She licks her lips, slow enough that Beau  _ knows _ it's on purpose, and Beau can't seem to drag her eyes away.

 

"No, I, uh," Beau stammers, shuffling closer still, "Wanted to, uh -"

 

And Yasha very well knows what Beau wants, because she closes the gap between them and hoists Beau up from the ground. Yasha's hands grip Beau's thighs tightly where they wrap around Yasha's midsection, and this time Beau can't stop the soft gasp that escapes past her lips. The axe falls harmlessly to the soft earth beside them.

 

"Is this what you want?" Yasha asks, eyes heavy-lidded and voice low.

 

Beau can only nod in response, a quick jerk of her head, before she surges forward and kisses Yasha hard. Yasha actually stumbles a step back, which Beau takes as a complement. Not for the first time, Beau silently says a prayer of thanks for Yasha's strength as she carries Beau deeper into the woods, away from prying eyes and ears.

 

Afterwards, when they're both covered in scrapes and splotches of dirt, trying to catch their breath, Yasha breaks the silence once more.

 

"I'm going to leave again," she says bluntly, "Not right now, but probably in the next couple of days."

 

Beau sighs. She knows that, but kind of wishes Yasha would let her just enjoy the post-orgasm bliss for once. She says as much.

 

Yasha smiles; she always seems so amused by Beau. Beau would take offense to it, but how can she when Yasha's stupid smile makes her belly flip around?

 

"I just feel like we had a misunderstanding last time," Yasha continues, "And I'd like to avoid that in the future."

 

"I won't be a brat again," Beau promises, "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

 

"You're not a brat. And it's as much my fault as yours. We should've talked before, but," Yasha trails off for a moment, drags her gaze down Beau's naked form before continuing, "You're distracting."

 

Beau grins, pushes herself up on her forearms, and asks, "Oh yeah? How distracting?"

 

" _ Very  _ distracting."

  
  
  


When Yasha leaves in the middle of the night two days later, Beau reminds herself that she knew it was coming. She figures that should make it sting less, but it doesn't really.

 

*****

 

They establish a pattern of sorts. Well, a loose pattern. 

 

Sometimes Yasha will linger for several days at a time, helping out with whatever The Mighty Nein is facing - and they are almost always facing  _ something _ . Other times, Yasha comes directly to Beau and stays for just a few hours, slipping away once Beau falls asleep. 

 

Yasha appears and disappears in all manner of states; sometimes she shows up drunk and happy, other times she's injured or sullen. Beau only asks about it once, when Yasha tumbles through her window late one night looking like she's about a hair's width away from death.

 

"What the fuck?"

 

Beau is disoriented, having just drifted off to sleep a few minutes before. She hears the heavy, wet breathing of someone in her room, and somehow she immediately knows it's Yasha. She fumbles for a lantern and gets it lit in time to see the barbarian pick herself up off the floor heavily.

 

"Sorry," Yasha wheezes, and then coughs - and Beau can see a hint of red splatter on her hand when she does.

 

"Shit, Yasha," Beau says, setting the lantern down and jumping up to help.

 

"I'm okay," Yasha exhales once Beau reaches her.

 

She's not okay, obviously. Not by a long shot. Beau helps Yasha limp over to the bed, takes her cloak off as gently as she can, and starts trying to assess her wounds. There are a lot of them. Before Beau can say or do anything else, Yasha casts Healing Hands on herself. Some of the worst wounds, the open gashes that were bleeding freely, mend themselves enough so that Beau is no longer worried Yasha might actually die on her bed at any moment.

 

"Fuck, why'd you wait to do that?" Beau asks.

 

"Didn't want to waste it," Yasha says with some difficulty, "Wanted to get somewhere safe, first."

 

Beau swallows thickly. She helps Yasha lay down and tells her not to move while she goes to fetch the healer's kit from Jester's room. Beau manages to get in and out of the room without waking Jester  _ or _ Nott, which she doesn't even have time to be proud of herself for. Not when Yasha is in the state she's in.

 

Beau runs down to the tavern below, thankful to see a barkeep still awake and cleaning up.

 

"Hi, hey," Beau says as soon as she gets close enough, "Sorry, I know it's late, but can I get some fresh water."

 

"Now?" He asks with a sigh.

 

"Yeah, sorry, my friend is hurt. I need to clean her up."

 

The man frowns, says, "I don't want any trouble here."

 

"No trouble," Beau responds quickly, "No trouble at all. Just need some water and you won't see or hear from me the rest of the night."

 

Beau is borderline begging now, and it's an unsettling feeling. The barkeep sighs again, and maybe it's the desperate look in Beau's eyes or maybe he's been in a similar situation, but he finally nods.

 

"Alright," he says, shuffling toward the bar, "But if there  _ is _ trouble, you'll be out of here like that."

 

He snaps for emphasis, but kind of undermines his authority when he goes to immediately fill up a large pitcher with water.

 

"Of course," Beau says, "Thank you."

 

She collects the water, laying down a gold piece on the bar for the man's time, and darts back up to her room. There's a brief moment, right after Beau walks into the room but before she sees the rise and fall of Yasha's chest, where Beau is sure that she miscalculated - she's sure Yasha has died. Pure, searing terror courses through Beau's veins, but then Yasha chokes out a little cough and Beau feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on her head.

 

With a shaky breath, Beau sets to work. She pours some water into a basin and grabs as many clean cloths as she can find. She strips Yasha down to her undergarments and blinks away memories of doing the same thing in better circumstances. Because Yasha will be alright. She has to be.

 

But once she finishes undressing Yasha, and she sees the full extent of the injuries, Beau's not so sure. Yasha looks thin, sickly thin, like she hasn't eaten a real meal in the month or so since Beau's seen her last. There's barely any part of Yasha that doesn't have a wound of some kind; cuts and burns and bruises of every color imaginable mar her once-perfect skin.

 

"Yasha," Beau whispers, and she reaches out to brush some hair, damp with blood, out of Yasha's face. Beau realizes she's crying, but she's not sure when it started.

 

"I'm okay," Yasha repeats, her voice weak and raspy.

 

"You're  _ not _ ," Beau says through gritted teeth, "Don't lie."

 

Yasha looks up at Beau a moment longer, like she might argue, before finally she nods - even the small movement seems like it pains her. Beau turns away and wipes her eyes as discreetly as she can, though it's not like it really matters at this point. 

 

She pours Yasha a cup of water, helps tip her head forward as she asks Yasha to drink some. Yasha is compliant in a way Beau's never seen before, and that almost makes it harder. 

 

She spends the next few hours carefully cleaning and dressing Yasha's wounds as best she can. Yasha goes in and out of consciousness, and Beau makes her take sips of water every once in a while. The room is silent save for Yasha's raspy breathing and the occasional sniffle from Beau. She doesn't cry the entire time, but it's more than she wants to - which would be none, for the record.

 

Eventually, Yasha's breath goes from shaky and wet-sounding to steady and deep, and Beau figures that's a good sign. She makes Yasha drink a few more sips of water, covers her with a light blanket, and tells her to sleep.

 

"Beau," Yasha says, catching Beau's wrist with a clumsy swat before Beau can step away from the bed, "Wait."

 

Beau pauses. It looks like Yasha is barely awake, her eyes and limbs hanging heavier than Beau's ever seen them.

 

"Thank you," Yasha continues when Beau makes no effort to move or speak, "I -"

 

Yasha swallows and Beau almost starts crying again because she's just noticed how chapped Yasha's lips are. Beau gives her some more water.

 

"What ha-appened to you?" Beau asks, her voice catching in the middle.

 

Beau knows she's probably not supposed to ask, but how can she not? Yasha looks away for a moment before smiling sadly.

 

"I lost focus," she says, "Kind of funny, after I lectured you about it."

 

Beau crosses her arms.

 

"This isn't a joke," she says firmly.

 

"No," Yasha agrees, "But that's what happened. I lost focus and I got caught. Took me a little while to get free."

 

Beau narrows her eyes.  _ Caught? _ Like as in a prisoner? It's the most detail Yasha has ever let slip and Beau has no idea what to make of it.

 

"Free from who?" Beau asks, "Where?"

 

Yasha closes her eyes.

 

"I'm sorry, Beau," she shakes her head, pauses, then adds, "I'm really tired."

 

Every molecule in Beau's body screams at her to push, to finally get some fucking answers about where Yasha goes. What she does for The Stormlord, and why she can't just  _ tell _ them about it. But then she looks down at Yasha's broken form, and all the fight just melts away.

 

"Sleep," Beau whispers.

 

Beau tidies up the room, mostly just makes a pile of the dirty rags and Yasha's clothes, in an attempt to burn off some nervous energy. It helps a little, but not enough to tire her out. She turns out the lantern and draws the curtain shut as tight as she can. The sun will be up soon and she doesn't want the light to disturb Yasha's rest.

 

She drags the lone chair stationed in the corner of the room up next to the bed, and settles in to watch over Yasha. Yasha seemed better, sure, but what if she stops breathing while Beau sleeps? There's no way Beau can risk it.

 

Yasha sleeps soundly through most of the next day, though, her breaths coming regular and strong the entire time. When Beau doesn't come down to breakfast, Fjord checks up on her. Despite his misgivings about Beau and Yasha's  _ arrangement, _ Fjord still obviously cares about both of their well beings. 

 

He sends Jester up to cast another healing spell on Yasha, makes sure Beau never wants for food or drink while she waits for Yasha to wake up. Not that she's really hungry. Or thirsty, for that matter. But they tell her to eat, and to drink, so she does.

 

When Yasha does finally wake up, it's right around dusk. There's a golden tint to the light that falls on the tips of Yasha's hair, but the rest of her still looks like absolute shit. The magical, enhanced healing has caused some of the bruises to already fade to garish shades of green and yellow - it's not great.

 

But Yasha's awake and she's alert, and she remembers who she is and who Beau is. She can move all her fingers and toes, and she's fucking famished. All things considered, Beau figures she can't ask for much more.

 

They don't talk about what happened while Yasha is healing, mostly because Beau doesn't want to deal with getting shut out again. At least Yasha's not going anywhere, for the time being. She  _ can't _ go anywhere for several weeks while she regains her strength. The Mighty Nein all help take care of her, and things are relatively calm for a time.

 

Beau stays with Yasha every night. At first, it's to check on wounds and make sure Yasha's doing okay, but eventually she is well enough to sleep on her own. But Yasha doesn't ask Beau to leave and Beau doesn't offer, so they just… keep doing it. 

 

They don't have sex, though, not even when the last of Yasha's bruises has faded and her bones don't poke through in places they aren't supposed to anymore. It's not that Beau doesn't want to, it's just that, well, she's a little nervous that if she starts undressing  _ this _ Yasha she'll see the half-dead version of Yasha instead. And she really never wants to see that Yasha again.

 

Yasha doesn't say so in so many words, but it's obvious she's starting to get restless - in a lot of ways. She pushes her training sessions with Fjord to the max, always asking to go one more round. She pouts - actually, honestly  _ pouts _ \- when the group unanimously decides that she's not quite ready to go out on a mission. She stares hungrily at Beau when she thinks no one is paying attention. But Beau's usually paying attention, especially to Yasha. She notices.

 

Things come to a head one night when Beau walks in on Yasha doing pushups in their room. She's only human, after all, and Yasha's arms have always been a weakness for her, and she hasn't gotten laid in a while. So, Beau lets herself stare for a moment.

 

It becomes clear very quickly that this is a calculated move on Yasha's part, because she turns to look at Beau mid-pushup and smiles broadly. 

 

"See something you like?" Yasha asks without stopping the fluid motion of her body.

 

"I, uh," Beau stammers for a second, then closes the door behind her and regains her focus, "How many of those have you done? You shouldn't, like, overextend yourself."

 

The smile slips off Yasha's face; she sighs and pushes herself up to stand. She walks over to Beau, takes her by the hand, and leads her to the bed. They both sit on the edge of it.

 

"Beau," Yasha begins softly, "I promise you, I am okay now. I feel completely back to normal."

 

Beau looks away.

 

"It's been weeks. You don't need to treat me like I'm going to break anymore," Yasha adds.

 

Beau feels like she's going to cry again, of all fucking things, so she can't bring herself to look at Yasha. Can't make Yasha understand what it felt like, what it  _ feels _ like when she thinks about what could've happened.

 

" _ Beau, _ " Yasha says, firmer now, "Will you at least look at me?"

 

So Beau fucking  _ does _ because she's not a coward, but it's probably the wrong move. She can tell by the tilt of Yasha's head when she sees Beau's face - like she feels sorry for Beau, or something.

 

"I'm okay," Yasha tells her again.

 

Beau is about  _ this _ close to losing it, but then Yasha leans forward and kisses her, and it's softer than anything she's ever felt before.

 

"I'm okay," Yasha repeats, her voice barely a whisper.

 

And Yasha's form is sturdy beneath her fingers and solid against her lips, so Beau lets herself believe it. She nods her head, leans forward, and, for once, she's able to clear her mind. They take their time, slow kisses and slow touches, and it's  _ different. _

 

"Let me know if I hurt you," Yasha says with a grin once she's got Beau undressed.

 

Beau laughs, and any last bit of tension she's feeling just slips away. She climbs on top of Yasha, pokes her in the chest, and tells her, tonight, it's the other way around.

 

"I promise," Yasha says, and Beau believes that one too.

 

*****

 

The last time it happens Beau's almost expecting it. It's been more than a month since Yasha climbed through Beau's window, bloody and broken. More than two weeks since things got mostly back to normal. 

 

It's the middle of the night, and Yasha knocks Beau's staff to the ground. The clang of it echos around the room.

 

"Sorry," Yasha says, setting the staff back in its place, "I didn't mean to wake you. I was just -"

 

"Leaving," Beau finishes for her, voice thick with sleep and resentment, "Yeah, I know."

 

"Are you angry?"

 

Beau sighs. Anger would be simpler, easier to name, than what she feels now.

 

"No."

 

"Well it sounds like you're angry," Yasha says as she sits on the edge of the bed.

 

"Hey, so, if you're gonna leave, just go," Beau tugs the sheet up to her chin, "Or else I  _ will _ get angry."

 

Yasha huffs out an exhale, clearly irritated.

 

"I told you, back when we first met - and you thought I was interested in  _ Jester _ , of all people - I told you that I wasn't looking for anything."

 

Yasha is worked up in a way that Beau doesn't expect from her. The surprise of it wakes Beau up, makes her temper flare.

 

"Yeah, well, you sure found my fucking bed, didn't you?" Beau asks, sitting up and inching forward, "Pretty impressive for someone who wasn't even looking."

 

"That's not fair," Yasha says, standing up.

 

"Isn't it?"

 

"No, it's not," Yasha throws her hands up, exasperated, "You know it's not. I have been honest with you, Beau. After that first time, I have been nothing but honest with you."

 

It's true. Beau knows it's true. She deflates a little.

 

"I know," Beau says finally.

 

"I have responsibilities -  _ debts, _ " Yasha continues, still worked up, "I can't always be here, with the group, with you -"

 

"I said I  _ know _ ," Beau speaks over Yasha, more of a growl than anything else.

 

"Even if I wanted to," Yasha quietly finishes her sentence into the sudden silence of the room.

 

" _ Do _ you want to?" Beau asks after a long moment.

 

"It doesn't matter what I want." 

 

"It matters to me," Beau says as she climbs out of bed.

 

"Beau," Yasha's voice cracks around her name.

 

"I said it  _ matters _ to me," Beau steps closer to Yasha.

 

There's a moment where Beau thinks maybe it's enough. Maybe  _ she's _ enough. But then Yasha is shaking her head and turning away.

 

"I have to leave," she chokes out, "I'm sorry."

 

"No," Beau says firmly, "No, this time,  _ I'm  _ leaving. You owe me that, at least."

 

Beau blindly tugs on some clothes, grabs her staff just in case, and walks past Yasha and out the door. She doesn't look at her once, not even over her shoulder; she just leaves. Yasha must've done it a hundred times, how hard can it be?

 

Beau makes it out to the street before she remembers she doesn't have anywhere to go. She wanders around for nearly an hour, half-hoping to run into something she can punch. No, wait, she's all the way hoping for that. Punching, or even getting punched, would be way better than this hollow cavern in her gut. Unfortunately for her, everything is calm. 

 

Eventually she heads back to the inn. In the morning, she'll figure out a plan - a way to stop feeling all these terrible, big, painful things. When she walks into her room, she almost doesn't see the folded up piece of parchment in the middle of her bed. It's small, and the room is dark. But she does, just before she's about to throw back the covers, and she picks it up and opens it.

 

It's just one word, the name of a town, but it's written in Yasha's messy scrawl. It takes a second, but when Beau realizes what she's holding she feels the empty space inside her start to fill. It's a swirling mix of nerves and fear and curiosity and hope, but it's something. It's a chance. Beau grabs her pack, wondering how early is too early to wake the others. They'll have a lot of ground to cover if they're going to catch up.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe someday I'll write a sequel when we find out more about where Yasha goes, but also maybe I won't so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
